Title: Silk
Author: Traxits
Chapter Rating: Teen.
Chapter Content Notes: Author chose not to use warnings.
Chapter Word Count: 3193 words.
Author's Notes: None.

(Chapter 4, Patience)

Zuko didn't know why it had bothered him so much to see Sokka flinch from the firebending. Maybe it was because Zuko had a certain amount of pride in each movement he could do, each little dart of flames from his body made him swell with pride. He had fought, clawed, and scraped for his abilities, and he had a right to enjoy them, to use them.

But after seeing Sokka curled up on his bed, asking to go back in that locked room, Zuko had felt a different sensation infusing him each time he bent fire. He sighed, scowled at the memory, and then pushed his breakfast around on the plate a little more. Sokka hadn't eaten with him since that disastrous evening, and Zuko was even more annoyed to realize that he missed it.

It was impossible to tell how long it had been since Zuko had taken Sokka from Kyoshi Island since Zuko didn't see a point in trying to keep up with how long he'd been away from his home, how long he'd been chasing the Avatar, but somehow, Sokka in his brightly colored dresses walking along beside Uncle Iroh had become such a staple that several of the crew were even asking if Sokka were well. Zuko drummed his fingers along the edge of his table.

He shoved himself back after a few minutes, refusing to tolerate it any further, and he walked across the hall. They were scheduled to stop soon. He would let Sokka walk around on the beach; perhaps that would cheer him some. At the least, it would help Zuko find some peace of mind. He rapped on the door, and when he heard Sokka's faint noise of inquiry, he called, "Sokka, we're stopping soon. Do you want to walk around?"

There was a moment of silence, and then Zuko could hear Sokka moving. If he focused, he could just hear the whisper of fabrics as Sokka dressed. He closed his eyes, wondering why that image would stick in his head, why when he closed his eyes, the thought of Sokka, of those bright fabrics sliding off of that darker skin was so foolishly appealing. He unlocked the door just as Sokka reached it, and when Sokka stepped out, Zuko wondered why on earth he'd thought it would be a good idea to start dressing Sokka in girls' clothes to begin with. The plan was backfiring, and Zuko didn't much care for it.

There was no changing it now though, and instead, he shut the door and walked Sokka over to his room where the remains of breakfast waited. "You'll have to eat something," he said, and he held out a plate to Sokka.

Sokka piled food onto the plate, and Zuko was relieved to see Sokka eat so well. Perhaps Sokka was beginning to feel better then. He finished off his own breakfast, and only then did he lead Sokka on up to the deck. Several of the guards smiled when they saw Sokka, and Sokka offered them each little waves, as though he were completely oblivious to just how much they enjoyed having him there.

Probably because he wasn't their spoiled Prince, Zuko reflected, well aware of what they thought of him. He didn't have time to care though, because now that the Avatar was out in the open, there was actually a chance that Zuko could catch him, that Zuko could restore his place in the kingdom. Zuko closed his eyes with a sigh, opening them only at the sound of his uncle's voice.

"Would you two like some tea?"

Zuko waved a hand, turning the cup down, but Sokka took one. He didn't understand exactly what the appeal was of the hot leaf juice, but it made Sokka smile as he spoke with Iroh, exchanging pleasantries, so Zuko didn't say anything about it. Instead, he turned to the charts out on the table, reaching out with a look to the helmsman.

"We're stopping here," he confirmed, and his eyes lifted to meet Sokka's across the table. Sokka glanced over the map, then looked back to Iroh. Zuko's eyes narrowed. "Can you read a map?" He watched Sokka consider the question before he nodded, shrugging as though it weren't important, and Zuko wondered if that meant the Avatar had lost his navigator.

That would explain the erratic route that had been taken, that Zuko could piece together given the reported sightings of the Avatar. He looked back at the map, listening as Iroh commented that he had missed playing Pai Sho with Sokka the past few days.

And Sokka, the little prick, had the nerve to reply with a comforting pat on Iroh's arm and a low, "I wasn't feeling up to playing anyway."

Zuko gritted his teeth as he cast a dark look at Sokka. No matter how innocent he played with Iroh and the crew, Zuko knew that Sokka had been avoiding them— all of them— because they were Fire Nation. Because he needed to prove to himself that— Zuko stopped himself there, and his frown deepened. Sokka had been proving that he had some sort of control over his situation, that he didn't have to interact with them if he didn't want to, and Zuko had gone along with it without even realizing. He wouldn't make that mistake again.

He bit his tongue until they landed, until they had gone ashore in the smaller boat. The crew would cycle the time on shore, letting everyone who wanted to walk around on land do so, but Iroh and Zuko and Sokka would spend the entire time there. Iroh took Sokka by the arm and led him away almost immediately, and Zuko ignored the surprising shot of pain through him that it caused. Normally, Iroh took him by the arm that way, so excited to show him some sort of foolish nonsense.

Not that it mattered. That would only have led to more time wasted. He located the fisherman he wanted to speak to, and when he confirmed that the man had indeed seen that cursed flying bison only a few days prior, Zuko stormed back to the ship. He wanted to leave right away, wanted to pack everything back up and take off in the direction the fisherman had pointed, but he realized with a vague sense of unease that if the man had spotted them a few days ago, it was unlikely that they had lingered.

He reached up and rubbed his forehead. None of the crew spoke to him, although they all exchanged uneasy glances, clearly concerned that he was going to immediately call for them to cast off. He lowered himself to sit on a log nearby, the motion nearly painful as he struggled to keep himself calm. A great leader was patient; that was what Iroh kept saying. Zuko could be patient. At the least, he could exercise his patience; maybe reassure himself that he wasn't as much of a failure to his uncle as he was to his father.

He closed his eyes, turning his face toward the sun, and he breathed. The fire comes from the breath, Prince Zuko. That was what Iroh kept insisting, kept trying to tell him. Zuko focused on that sensation, his lungs filling and emptying, trying to figure out exactly what Iroh was getting at. Firebending was easier when he was angry, and while he wasn't the prodigy his sister was, Zuko was far from incompetent. He'd compensated for his lack of natural talent by pouring more time than most into his training.

On the ship, it wasn't like he had much else to do. Track the Avatar and bend; train and watch the skies. He exhaled and opened his eyes— he didn't remember closing them— to look at the sky. For a moment, there was the slightest hint of peace stealing over him, because with solid ground under him, warm sunlight on his face, what else could he feel?

Then one of the crew dropped something, let it crash to the ground, and Zuko stood, frowning at them all. He didn't have time for this, didn't have time to waste looking at the sky and attempting to decipher his uncle's ramblings. He had to reload the ship, had to find that damned Avatar so that he could go home and meditate in the quiet of the gardens. Not on some forsaken Earth Kingdom shore.

He stormed through the forest near the shore, his scowl deepening as he pushed through the greenery. His uncle had taken Sokka off this way, laughing and explaining something about the lay of the land. He followed their path easily enough. Sokka's long skirts had swept the ground and caught on plants as he walked past them, making it obvious where they'd gone.

"Uncle!" Zuko jerked his leg away from some sort of prickly vine that seemed determined to slow him down. "Where—" He fell quiet as he entered a small clearing, where Sokka was laughing. The laughter was so carefree, so open that it made Zuko stop in his tracks.

Sokka, even in a dress, didn't act like a girl. There was nothing like a coy glance or giggling behind his hand. He laughed, head thrown back; he just never laughed around Zuko. Looking ahead, Zuko spotted him sinking down in some sort of natural crater beside a similar one that Iroh was lounging in. The water in the crater was steaming, and Iroh waved when he spotted Zuko. Iroh's clothes hung over near the branches that Zuko pushed past into the clearing, but Sokka's were right there, dress— today's was a pale yellow with scattered white blossoms on the fabric, it didn't suit Sokka's coloring, but Zuko was half sure that Sokka didn't care— just out of reach so that if Sokka splashed, it wouldn't get wet.

Iroh leaned back, giving Zuko a wide smile as he waved him over, but Sokka just sank a little lower in the water, until it brushed his chin, his smile fading, and Zuko was torn between asking him if he was all right and laughing at how absurd his own life had gotten. He left his prisoner with his uncle for a few minutes, and the next thing he knew, they were both soaking up hot water as though they were on some kind of pleasure cruise.

"Prince Zuko! Good of you to join us. I was telling Sokka—"

"That we're leaving, I hope," Zuko said, cutting his uncle off. "You were, weren't you?" It was easier to focus on that, to remind them all what he was actually after here. He wanted to go home, wanted to stop spending his days aboard that ship, wanted to stop chasing the Avatar. His jaw tightened.

"Really, Prince Zuko, you should get in. The water is the perfect temperature. I heated it myself."

That explained how these craters were full of hot water; hot springs didn't form this way naturally. Zuko could feel a muscle in his jaw starting to twitch.

"We don't have time for that. The Avatar's been spotted near here, and we're leaving. Now."

Sokka sighed, sinking down just a little more in his water, it was just under his nose now, and Zuko scowled at him. Iroh just stretched out some, seemingly quite comfortable in where he was.

Zuko's temper snapped. "Now, Uncle," he repeated. "Sokka, get out."

Sokka wrinkled his nose at Zuko, but he started to rise, and Zuko's interest was momentarily captivated at how Sokka slid out only enough to reach and grab his dress at first, holding it in front of himself as he started to leave the water. Then his focus shattered when Iroh started to stand and stretch, and Zuko made a sharp noise as he held up a hand to cover his uncle's nudity.

"Right. Tell you what," he said finally, and as Iroh dropped right back down in the water, he crossed the clearing. "Take another few minutes. But half an hour, Uncle. We're leaving in half an hour, and if you're not there, we'll leave without you."

Sokka didn't actually have anything to dry off with, so he pulled the dress on right over his wet skin, and Zuko reached out and caught Sokka's elbow, keeping the Water Tribe boy within sight. He wasn't about to allow a prisoner to escape on him or his uncle. Sokka scowled at him, muttering something that Zuko didn't catch. Zuko didn't care enough to make Sokka repeat himself.

He stalked back to the boat, Sokka in tow. He was far more annoyed than he probably should have been, but all he could think of was the simple fact that the Avatar was getting away, going somewhere, and if Zhao caught him first, Zuko would never get to go home. The thought was enough to chase away even the appeal of Sokka in his dress.

At least, it was until they got back on board and Sokka jerked away from him. There was something about the frown on that face, the way he stormed back toward his room—

Zuko swallowed, his eyes narrowing. He had half an hour, he reasoned. He had promised at least that much time to Iroh. He called out some orders to the crew— be prepared to leave within the hour— and then he followed Sokka into the hallway with the rooms. He didn't let Sokka disappear into his room though, didn't let Sokka have any control over the situation; instead, he caught Sokka's arm and pulled him into the room across the hall. Sokka's eyes widened, and he looked up at Zuko with something bordering on fear. He was nervous?

Zuko took his time. He pushed Sokka on into the room, studying him, trying to figure out what exactly it was about this combination, about the fact that the boy was wearing a dress that held his attention. His hair was growing, and from the way Sokka kept reaching up to scratch at the part that had once been shaved, it probably was beginning to itch. But the best part, the part that kept Zuko staring, was the way Sokka was at once defiant and yielding, wanting to argue but too uncertain of his position to actually do so.

He was the prisoner, though. It was fitting that he stay off balance and uncertain. Then again, if he were a proper prisoner, Zuko would have gotten some sort of information out of him beyond the knowledge that the girl— the owner of the necklace hidden away in his pocket— was a bender. He smiled just slightly at that thought. He did have leverage, after all.

He pulled the necklace from his pocket, and Sokka's lips parted. "Where did you get that?" Sokka shifted from compliant to bristling, because his hands tightened into fists and he took a step toward Zuko.

"I thought it might be hers." Zuko nodded, satisfied now that he had his confirmation. He ignored the question, ignored the sudden intensity that Sokka was looking at him with. He tossed it up, caught it, and returned it to his pocket. It was that instant, the moment it vanished from sight, when Sokka lunged at him.

They both hit the ground, and Sokka was scrabbling, trying to get the necklace away from him. Zuko growled as he shoved Sokka off of him, leaping back to his feet. Sokka swung, fist tight, and Zuko caught it in his own hand. There was a rush of something in him, something that made him feel strangely alive. Sparring with the lieutenant didn't bring this out, didn't give him that same satisfying surge of power.

Sokka wasn't sparring, wasn't fighting him because he'd been instructed to. Sokka was fighting for something real, even knowing that Zuko was a bender, that Zuko was a better warrior. He twisted the hand in his grip, making certain to use enough of his own weight in the motion that it sent Sokka flying across the room where he slammed against the wall and fell to the floor, a crumpled heap of yellow and white. Zuko glanced at the necklace once more— Sokka had managed to get it out of his pocket at least— but the sound of Sokka jerking one of the dao from the wall was more than enough to jerk him back to the present.

Quickly, he shot a wave of flame at Sokka, but there wasn't the same reaction there had been immediately after the duel. Instead, Sokka braced himself and used the flat of the blade to divert as much of the fire as he could; he was filled with that same sense of desperation that had made him fight the first time, back at the South Pole, and again in Kyoshi. He assumed a fighting stance, but Zuko realized in a heartbeat that he wasn't familiar with the dao.

It wasn't a spear or a boomerang, wasn't his natural weaponry. His stance was clearly adopted from Zuko's, from having watched Zuko duel on deck. Zuko couldn't stop a slight grin. It was gratifying to know that Sokka spent time watching him, and watching him enough that he almost had the stance right. It meant Zuko's fascination hadn't simply been one-sided.

But Sokka wasn't a firebender, and he wasn't used to actually fighting them either. Zuko stomped once, twice, and spurts of flames danced along the hem of Sokka's skirt, Sokka cried out as he leaped forward, sword brandished. Zuko sent another burst of fire that did make Sokka flinch. Everyone flinched when fire kissed their faces.

Zuko used the momentum to knock the sword from Sokka's hands, to trap him against the wall. His hand wrapped around Sokka's throat, and when Sokka looked up at him, there was such a sense of despair in that face that Zuko felt himself reeling.

"Do you want it that badly?" Zuko could understand that desperation, the desire to cling to pretty much anything that reminded him of home. He only needed to look around at his own room to see proof of that. Sokka swallowed before he nodded. Zuko could feel the motion behind his hand, and it was vulnerable, sparking something in him that he wasn't familiar with.

"Zuko..." Sokka hesitated, and then he locked his jaw and looked away. He wasn't going to ask for it then, couldn't lower himself enough to ask a favor from a firebender. Zuko's eyes narrowed as he studied that expression of defiance, that unwillingness to cooperate.

"When you ask me for it nicely, I'll consider it," Zuko decided, and he had no idea where that came from. He held the necklace up enough that the white medallion caught the light and glittered. "Nicely," he repeated, and then he stepped back, pocketing the piece of jewelry.

Sokka scowled at him, and Zuko decided that he didn't care. Sokka could dislike him— no. Sokka was supposed to dislike him. Water Tribe and Fire Nation were polar opposites; Zuko was the captor and Sokka was the captive. They couldn't have been friends.